Dash was commenting recently on how even though his parents are both less than ten years away from halfway to a hundred – thanks, Dash, that’s lovely – he doesn’t think of us as being old. “Gee, thanks,” we said, but Mabel came and snuggled on my knee and kissed me and said, “Don’t worry, Mummy, you’re very … happy and … nice.” She had to search for the right words, there, I know she did. But she really tried. Beautiful and young would have done too, but never mind, it’s probably a good thing.
Mabel did admit one day recently that she had lied, once, in school. “How did that happen?” I asked, curious to see how this would play out.
“Well, Mr. G__ asked us if we liked his new glasses.”
That seems exceptionally reasonable, and I told her as much.
We all went to the supermarket this morning, it being spring break and us being totally out of milk and cereal and bread and basically everything anyone eats. As we left, Mabel was cradling the pineapple we’d bought and singing a little song to it. Because that’s how she rolls.
We went down to the playground yesterday and called on our friends who live across the road from it. They came out to play and an epic game of Harry Potter began. Mostly I read my book and sat on the bench that – purposely, I’m sure – faces directly away from all the playground equipment, so you can’t be tempted to try to save anyone, but I did at one point hear Dash announce, “I’ll be Hedwig and Buckbeak.” Which seemed ambitious.
Cherry blossoms. Finally. And it’s suddenly sunscreen weather, and shorts and t-shirts weather, and sandals weather and painting toenails weather. It won’t stay this way, this is just our little teaser to remind us to go through the summer wardrobes and discover that everyone’s grown out of everything. Again. But the blossoms are glorious.